


Will you see the real me?

by Xbertyx



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Blood, F/M, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Trans Female Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 20:56:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4277637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xbertyx/pseuds/Xbertyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grell wants nothing more than for people to see her for who she real is, a woman. Her body is like a tomb to her, slowly suffocating her. </p><p>I'm trans female to male. Exploring the harsh reality.</p><p>Edited to make the grammar better. Random one shots about dysphoria and gender issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Will you see the real me?

 Him. He. His. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. Oh but they do. They cut into me like daggers. Pierce my heart. Break every ounce of sanity I seem to be clinging onto ever since killing my sweet Angelina. She understood. Understood the woman I am regardless of broad shoulders, uncurved hips.

 There's no one left to understand now. I stand in front of this bedroom mirror, tears spilling down, ruining the make up I spend an hour on a day. Foundation runs down my face, the illusion of peachy soft skin washing away to reveal the harsh features I shouldn't have. No. I'm a woman. I am a woman.

 I sink to my knees, sobs racking my body. Sobs that are too deep in tone. Just like my voice. Too deep, too harsh. Speak softer Grell god Dammit or they will never see you for who you truly are. Put those lashes on. Paint those nails. Show them the real you.

They never see. All the sickening pronouns they shout at me. All the times they have asked me what's between my legs. All the times they have mocked me. All the times i've looked away, begging the tears not to rise. For every time they have said "You're a man, start acting like one. Stop dressing like a freak." Why can't they accept me for who I am!? Am I a freak?

 I pull at my hair. Memories circling around like swarms of locusts. I stand up, slamming my fist into my pained reflection. I make myself sick. The image breaks but I can still see myself. It's shattered just like I am. I tear at my clothes. Strip away those beautiful layers of ladylike material. Rip away the mask of womanhood I shroud myself in day after day. The shattered reflection of my naked being makes my stomach churn. Parts that shouldn't exist. Chest as flat as an ironing board. Sharp lines. No softness. "I should look softer". I whisper, reaching to pull a shard of reflective glass from that cursed portal to that image of a body that isn't my own. That body isn't who I am.

 The glass cuts into me. Blood splats onto the floor. Maybe if I cut deep enough I can right the wrong that God has given me. I can carve out a shape more fitting of my soul. Lines of red ghost up my arm. Shallow slices, turning deeper. 'Woman' and 'her' carved onto me. Blood is anger. Blood is fury. Blood is passion. Enough blood will right the wrongs delt.

 I hear the door open. I came to Williams that night to see him. Maybe he would see me too. See me for who I really am. Not for what my body conveys with those sharp masculine lines. Not what he sees when he looks me in the eyes and all he can see is how fake lashes mask ones which are too thin. Not what he sees when I hold out my hand to him, plead without words for him to help me and all he can see are the big palms and thick fingers. Not the flat hair, that I have to spray with countless products to make it come alive.

 I turn to look at William, weapon still in hand. He looks at me so carefully. Not with the disgust that everyone except Ronald eyes me with. The glass slips from my grasp like all my hopes and dreams and comes crashing to the floor with a sharp clatter. My awful knobbly knees buckle under the weight of my sorrows. This awful body starts to shake. "Please see the real me." Pleas slip from my thin lips and echo through this plain room. Plain just like I am.

 William sinks down next to me. That cold man that I secretly love. "What have you done to yourself, Sutcliff?" In that moment all I wanted to hear was that he saw me. That he understood my sorrows. That he knew the words of 'her' and 'she' that I so longed to hear.

"If I cut myself deep enough, will you see? Can I change this awful, ill fitted form of mine?" I whisper. 

 He lifted that awful square jaw of mine, looking deep into my eyes. Into my heart? "You'll always be a woman to me Grell. You're too beautiful to hurt yourself like this." Words catch in my throat.

I came here to shriek at him about the ills handed down to me. Now that he had told me what I had longed to hear and I had no words. Arms pulled me into a warm embrace that seemed to melt away the sharp icy pain. "Listen to me. I know you never do but please just this once. Your name is Grell Sutcliff and you are a woman."


	2. Dysphoria.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Decided to add an unrelated chapter to this. Both Un connected one shots.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll repeat that. Chapter two and one aren't connected. It's just the topic of gender issues which is.
> 
> This has happened to me a lot. Pushing someone off me if they tried to touch me. Where parts don't fit the person I really am. Not nice. Awful feeling to be fair.

 Moans filled the room, two reapers connecting in both body and soul. Grell's nails dug into the other's back, muscles tightening as William pressed into that lovely spot inside of her. In the heat of pleasure, William wrapped his hand around her, pumping her roughly. He wanted to hear his gorgeous girl moaning just for him. She did, gasping loudly in surprise before moans of hard pleasure overcame her. Her whole body shook as they climaxed together, sharp grunts and sweet moans mixing together.

 He pulled out and she immediately turned on her side away from him. She pulled her knees up into her chest and wrapped her arms around herself tightly. Soft sobs echoed around the room. Worry etched across William's features. "Grell? What's the matter?"

 Then he realised it. Realised the grave error he had made, during the previous moment of blinding lust. She'd told him before not to touch her there. That she shouldn't have that part to her anatomy. Paying it any attention just made her stomach churn and focused her attention on all that was wrong with her. He was never to touch that place, that place where all her pain was housed.

 "Oh grell, I'm so sorry. I didn't think I-."

 "Just get out! You weren't meant to touch 'it'! I don't want you to see...see me. I disgust myself...I'm not...good enough for you. I'm just half a woman. No, I'm not a woman at all!"

 She curled into herself further, tears spilling down her face like the rain of a thunder storm. William didn't leave, he lay close to her and wrapped an arm around her from behind. "You're everything and more than I could ever wish for. I'm sorry."

 She turned around and uncurled herself slightly, pressing her face into William's chest. Tears fell heavier and sobs racked her small frame. "I told you not to touch me! It shouldn't exist...its wrong. So, so wrong...its not me! It feels wrong to even...feel pleasure like that...no, its wrong, all so wrong."

 He had no words. There was nothing he could say to make her feel at ease with a body which was so ill fitted to her personality. To her very soul. To the person she really was. It killed him to know she would never be truly happy. The wrongs pressed into thin hips and broad shoulders. Into square jaw lines and flat chest.

 It destroy her day by day and there was nothing he could do to ease her sorrows. He held her as tight as he could as she cried, until eyes ran die and breath turned to wheezy shakes. He could feel her falling apart from his ill considered actions. More than that, he could feel her fading into the darkness. Depression capturing her as she struggled against the way she should be, verses the harsh reality.

 Cries turned into shouts, as she screamed that she would rather be dead. Pain ripped through her. This was one thing she would never be able to change. The body she was born with. The body that was slowly tearing her fragile mind apart.


	3. Requested by Blackbutlerfan13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> High school au fic. Grell/ Undertaker.

 High school was a cruel place indeed, especially for people who didn’t conform to the normalities of society. Adrian was such a person. He was often the target of harsh words and violence. He had been dubbed ‘The Undertaker’ many years ago, by the bullies of this school, due to his morbid fascination with dead things; animals and humans alike. Most people however just called him a freak, for his hysterical laughter over a simple hello or an important question from the teacher in class. He was forever falling off of his chair from laughing too hard and subsequently sent to detention.

 School wasn’t so bad however; there was one person who brought light to the darkness of this shabby school. Someone who’d been the subject of his affections for some years, ever since he had first met her. She was the only one to be teased more than Adrian, if that was even possible, for the way she dressed and how she acted. Over the three years he had known her, her feisty personality had been crushed by constant name calling and fists aimed her way. He could see her struggling and wanted so very much to help her. He wanted to be the one at her side, to hug and kiss her whenever she was upset. He just hoped she felt the same way about him.

 He walked into the boys bathroom, having seen Grell race in there a few minutes earlier, dress torn and mascara running down her face. She’d been beaten up for the fourth day in a row. _Of course, she wouldn’t dare go into the girls bathroom. She nearly ended up in the hospital last time, when she was caught._ He thought sadly.

 He could hear small sobs coming from one of the toilet stalls. Walking up to it, he knocked on the door. That’s when the door opened. She’d obviously forgotten to unlock it in her upset. The small redhead looked up at him, a look of panic on her face. Blood was dripping to the floor from deep cuts on the pale skin of her arms, a razor blade in one of her hands. “Erm … Undie … I-”

 “My my, what a mess you’ve made m' dear rose.” He sunk down onto his knees in front of her, pulling one of her arms gently forward to examine it. There were scars and healing cuts mingled in amongst the open wounds. “Why is a beautiful lady such as yourself hurtin’ herself like this?”

 She yanked her arm from his grasp. “Because I’m not beautiful! I’m a freak like everyone says I am. Just a damned tranny.” She looked away from him, more tears seeping from her eyes.

 “Grell, that is not true. You are indeed beautiful. Don’t listen to those silly bullies, they are just arses.”

 She shook her head. “Please don’t lie to me. No one finds me beautiful. Everyone sees me just as I am, a cross dressing freak. No one will ever find me desirable.”

 He cupped his fingers under her chin, turning her face to look at him. “I find you beautiful. I desire you. I quite frankly adore you.” He moved forward and pressed his lips against hers. He felt her tense and his heart dropped, thinking that he may have disgusted her. That he was the one who was in fact unwanted.

 After a few moments, she began to kiss back and he moved his hands to her back, pulling her closer. As they pulled away, she giggled. “I have to admit that I adore you too, you sure know how to mend a ladies heart.”

 He scooped her up in his arms, standing up to take her somewhere where he could tend to her wounds. “And what a beautiful lady you are.”


End file.
